


but there's still so much to do

by bodtlings



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, Poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-07
Updated: 2016-03-18
Packaged: 2018-05-25 09:28:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6189109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bodtlings/pseuds/bodtlings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>it was a loss not meant for us,<br/>and yes, before you ask,<br/>it bothers me.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> idk what this is but i wrote it in five minutes and it's day 2340834 and I'm still not over seijou losing 
> 
> [tumblr](http://bodtlings.tumblr.com) // [twitter](https://twitter.com/hajimetxt)

on a day when it was raining  
and the skies were angry  
for our loss, you asked me,  
does it bother you?  
i didn’t know what you meant  
or what you were asking about,  
but i didn’t answer and instead  
went home that night and  
thought it over. 

_does it bother you?_

their spotlight? it does not bother me.  
the attention they’ve received  
and the shadows we’ve been in  
do not bother me.  
i’ve learned to accept the  
newspaper articles  
and the flashy cameras  
and the endless questions  
bombarded at the captain and his ace. 

_does it bother you?_

the first years’ increasing strength  
and that freak quick they’ve  
somehow mastered  
with the support of their seniors  
does not bother me.  
i’ve come to admire their efforts,  
envy their victory,  
and look forward to playing  
against the rising stars that are  
the setter and his decoy. 

_does it bother you?_

no, i don’t think so.

_does it bother you?_

_(think again)_

our gains have been enormous  
and our losses more defined.  
years formulating our strategies  
and our techniques  
and our plays and rotations  
have led to the  
end  
of our careers. 

_does it bother you?_

yes, it bothers me.

there will be no more meaningful practices  
for the four of us. no more 6AM yawns  
and meeting at the corner  
and milk bread rewards.  
there will be no more friendly insults in the gym  
or races to clean up equipment  
and no more affectionate creampuff  
adventures after a win. 

_does it bother you?_

it infuriates me.

_does it bother you?_

it was supposed to be us, makki.  
it was supposed to be  
nationals  
and bright lights  
and a stadium  
bigger than  
our school. 

it was supposed to be us, makki.  
it was supposed to be  
middle school closure for some  
a sense of bonding for others  
and a sense of completion,  
of purpose,  
for us. 

it was supposed to be us.  
we should have been on that podium,  
not the crows who’ve found their wings.  
where are our wings, makki?  
where is the wind carrying us  
up  
up  
up until we are as high  
as we were  
supposed  
to go? 

_does it bother you?_

it does more than bother me.

it devastates me.

to hear the angry fists against the lockers,  
to hear the stifled sobs and the  
growls of failure  
the cries of regret  
the whispers  
of apologies  
for wounds  
that  
can’t  
heal. 

_does it bother you?_

it should’ve been us, makki.

it bothers me.

 

does it bother _you?_


	2. i know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> someone had asked for makki's version of this and so i wrote one! enjoy <3
> 
> [tumblr](http://bodtlings.tumblr.com) // [twitter](https://twitter.com/hajimetxt)

we left the tournament gym  
with time to spare for lunch.  
we turned our backs on the  
final score like a soldier  
with his head down,  
walking away from a battle  
he knows  
he can’t win. 

i remember looking up and  
seeing the clouds were an angry  
gray, the color seeping into the  
faces of our teammates as we  
left our chances to the wind,  
hoping the hurricane gusts  
would carry it away to  
another time,  
another place,  
another universe,  
in which we would have won. 

i remember you had your head down,  
walking with your back hunched  
and embracing shame,  
regret,  
failure,  
and i remember feeling  
rolling clouds of growing thunder  
and destructive rain accumulating  
in my stomach, like  
it was over our heads. 

i grabbed onto your sleeve.

 _does it bother you?_ i asked.

you didn’t answer me.  
instead, you looked at me  
as if someone had died,  
and in a way, someone did.  
but you glued your gaze  
to the cracked pavement and  
stepped onto the bus  
as it started to pour,  
buckets of rain that were  
drowning out all sound, all sight.  
buckets that could only be matched  
by the water flooding from our eyes.

 _does it bother you?_  
  
my own question bothered me.  
it ran around in endless circles,  
doing laps in my mind around  
the court we lost on. 

_does it bother you?_

you never told me, mattsun.  
you never told me  
if all of our efforts,  
all of our practices and hard work  
and bloody noses  
and kneecap scrapes from  
no kneepads - all of  
what we’ve done, what  
we could have accomplished -  
went to waste. 

_does it bother you?_

it bothers me.  
all of it bothers me. 

the ace up our sleeve and the  
ace of our team did all they could.  
all of our time spent around  
whiteboard tactics and  
commanding coaches and  
grueling drills  
did not work as we planned.  
and oh, did we plan.  
how many months, mattsun?  
how many years?  
how many practices and  
how many fights over  
who was the better spiker?  
how many times have you been told  
by how many people  
to gain more confidence,  
to stand up taller,  
to own your presence on the court?  
how many times did it take  
for you to do that,  
only for us to lose the moment you did? 

_does it bother you?_

please, tell me it bothers you.  
tell me that this is unfair,  
that it should have been us,  
that the winning medal,  
the glory of middle school rivalries  
finally avenged,  
the chance to play with our friends  
one more time.

tell me, mattsun.

does it bother you?


End file.
